


Noro

by hubrisandwax



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hubrisandwax/pseuds/hubrisandwax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“The angels,” Cas replies, body tensing, gaze shooting towards the ceiling. “They want my wings.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Castiel has fallen. Dean cannot protect him from everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noro

**Author's Note:**

> Another drabble that was originally posted to tumblr. Titled based on the Brand New song of the same name.

“They’re coming,” Cas whispers, panicked, and Dean doesn’t know what Cas means.

“Who’s coming, Cas?” They’re sitting on a motel bed in the middle of upstate Illinois, watching some shitty daytime TV soap while Sam does his thing at the library. Cas has been skittish all day, refusing to stray more than a few yards from Dean at any one time, pressing up into his personal space more than Dean usually deems appropriate (and he’s fucking the goddamn angel). Even now, Cas is resting half on Dean’s lap and half on the comforter like scared cat. It’s freaking Dean out.

“The angels,” Cas replies, body tensing, gaze shooting towards the ceiling. “They want my wings.”

Dean frowns, taking Cas’ hand in his own for reassurance. “Hey, now, no angels are coming. They’re all gone. You’re safe with me.” He presses a kiss to Cas’ damp forehead. Cas immediately pulls away.

“No, Dean, you don’t understand.” His eyes are wide and frightened and too fucking blue. It hurts Dean to see him like this. “They’re –“

In a flutter of wings, five figures appear in the centre of the room, interrupting Cas. Three males, two females, all dressed in pressed black suits with perfect hair, emanating a power that Dean can’t quite comprehend (like Cas once used to).

What the fuck.

“No,” Cas mutters meekly. Dean pulls him against his chest, his arms forming protective bands around Cas’ body.

One of the other angels steps forward. It’s wearing a female: an attractive woman in her mid-thirties. “Castiel.” She bows her head. “You know why we are here.”

“You don’t need to do this, Araziel,” Cas says, voice breaking into splinters over the other angel’s name.

“I’m sorry, Castiel,” she says, looking up at him. “You know we do. We’ve been looking for months.” Pulling an angel blade from nowhere, Araziel takes another step forward. “Seize them.”

“NO!” Dean yells, trying to scramble across the bed, pulling Cas with him. He doesn’t understand what they want, but he knows whatever it is, it must be bad; Cas has barely flinched in the face of death, yet here his is now, terrified and shattered like a child. But they’re too fast; two angels are suddenly on him, pulling him away from Cas, and he’s kicking and screaming and biting, legs and arms flailing, anything to protect his best friend, his lover. Cas goes quietly, shaking, unable to stand without support. Dean can’t move; the angels are too strong.

They place Cas at Araziel’s feet, holding his arms, pushing him to the floor until his back is bared. Suddenly Dean understands: they want my wings. He lets out an agonised sob. One of the angels retraining him pushes a hand over his lips.

“Please,” Cas says, begging with that one broken syllable, looking up at Araziel with pleading eyes, and Dean thinks he’s going to cry.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. Her hand rests on Cas’ head gently, fingertips stroking the strands of dark chocolate hair. She reaches between his shoulder blades, grasping something only she can see, and pulls her arm that clutches the sword back behind her head.

In a whoosh of air, a rustle of clothing, the blade rushes forward and plunges into Cas’ back. There’s a flash of light, a splatter of blood; he screams in agony, a high-pitched wail that hits Dean right in his heart. The glass in the windows explodes. A palm is pressed against his eyes, blocking out the light and the sight of Cas’ prone form bleeding on the floor. Cas screams again, louder this time, as Dean hears the wet snicker of metal cutting flesh. He tries to bite at the skin pressed against his mouth until his jaw feels as if it’s about to fall off, Cas continuing to shriek against the sound of bones snapping and blades cutting. Dean’s definitely crying now; his eyes are stinging, the metallic taste of tears heavy on his tongue. Dean feels nauseous; he thinks he’s going to be sick.

It ends as quickly and as brutally as it began.

Silence.

Nothing but Cas’ sobs and the heavy sound of Dean’s gasping breaths fills the air.

“It’s over now,” Araziel murmurs. “You may release him.”

In a breath of wind, a beating of wings, Dean is free.

The angels are gone.

Cas lies in the middle of the room, blood oozing thick and red over the carpet. Dean rushes to his side, pulling him up, ignoring the crimson liquid as it seeps into his shirt.

“Cas?” he says. The angel doesn’t reply, eyelids half closed. Dean presses damp kisses again Cas’ mouth, trying to breath the life back into him. Cas stirs, blinking, looking up at Dean with that penetrating gaze.

“They’re gone, Dean,” Cas says softly. “I’m human.”

Dean blinks back more tears, cupping the fallen angel’s face in his hands. Oh, this is pure agony. He peppers the former angel’s face with kisses.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. “You so good, Cas. We’ll get them back, I promise. Please. Just be okay.”

He’s not sure he believes his own words as he fetches the whiskey, a needle and some dental floss from his duffle, tears drying stiffly on his face. A silent reminder of the pain to come.


End file.
